Uncategorized

Full Moon?

We must be into a full moon, are we? It’s been overcast and I don’t have a moon calendar, so I can’t tell. I’m going strictly on my dreams. Last night was INSANE! I went to sleep around 1:30, fell directly into dreams.

God! I travelled the world, scene after scene, place after place — the Brook Hill, NBCC-Miramichi, The Eastwood Park Hotel, PJ Billington’s, The Powertrack, on the Jersey turnpike in a blue Ford Mustang, sitting in a lounger chair by a pool on a cruise ship, picking blueberries with Muffin the day he died, watching the tide from the bench at the Alpine Motor Inn, Christmas shopping at the Eaton Centre, playing badminton with Dad on the front lawn and waving to Clyde as he drove by in that old green car, at a hockey game in Edmonton with Darren, dancing with Marty at the Renous Rec, taking the ring from Brett at Stacy’s wedding, shopping for a prom dress in Fredericton, mass in a Rome cathedral, watching Vanilla Sky in the Sherway movie theatre with Kevin, having lunch at the Frye Festival . . . and places I can’t even remember.

It was a whirlwind of images and people and snippets of conversations and movies and music, so bright and loud. And then it just stopped, like my mind hit a brick wall. Silence. Then I was sitting in the back seat passenger side of an older model 4-door dodge car, like a cop car. It may have been black but I couldn’t say for sure because this scene was in grayscale, everything except my eyes, and my eyes were so blue, nearly turquoise. The car was parked in a big empty parking lot late at night, parked in the shadows as far from street lamps as possible. I could make out the shape of buildings surrounding me but couldn’t tell whether they were businesses, factories or homes. Nothing was lit from inside. I could see my breath and hear my heart beating. Looking around panic started to well in my throat and my heart was pumping faster, my breath was coming in jagged gasps, everything was happening in slow motion.

And all of these people came out of the shadows and ran toward the car. I didn’t recognise anyone. They looked normal enough, dressed in jeans and t-shirts, white vintage Nike’s with the swoop design. They were coming at the car from all angles and I was trying to hit the power lock in the front seat to keep them out. It was like one of those zombie movies, except they didn’t look like traditional zombies, just normal people who were after me to do harm for some reason. I struggled to wake myself up, but I was so tired from all the dream snippets, all the running around I’d been doing, it was a slow drift to consciousness, not a jerky snap out of it. I opened my eyes and noticed how quiet the house was, wondered if I was truly awake or just in another scene. After a few minutes when nothing extraordinary happened I figured I was really awake, rolled over and checked the clock thinking it might be time to get up — 2:13.

I hadn’t even slept a whole hour yet and already I was more tired than when I went to bed. And when I went back to sleep it was the same thing again, snippet after snippet, some memories, some made up situations, some places I’ve been, some places I haven’t and I bounced along like that until 7 this morning, never hitting that brick wall again, never finding the grayscale parking lot with the creepy people. What an exhausting night!

Mood: sleepyhead
Drinking: coffee still
Listening To: If You Could Read My Mind, 54 Soundtrack
Hair: mussed up

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Categories: Uncategorized

4 replies »

  1. You do not want my dreams if you hope to be well rested and alert . . . functionable. Drug induced coma would seem to be the better alternative.

    Like

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